September 14, 2008
Trailing after her
A short loose dress
A colourful butterfly
Nothing the less.

She smiles sweetly
But a temptress she is not
Luring no one, not seductive
Though men for her have fought.

Most certainly she would perish
If she were left alone
Out on the streets
Without a chaperone.

Of the outside world
Nothing does she know
For a stroll in the park
Is the only place she’d go.

Protected and loved
Never ever abused
Simply sitting in the parlour
Waiting for her parents’ cues.

A tinkling little glass
The most she’s ever had
When she does taste more
She will blame her lad.

So once more
A short loose dress
A beautiful butterfly
Nothing the less.

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